


Wash Away the Rain

by Inell



Series: Teeny Fic Challenge [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Nightmares, Polyamory, Stiles Has Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: They know what to do to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stonerskittles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonerskittles/gifts).



> stonerskittles said: Allison/Stiles/Jackson for the teeny fic weekend?
> 
> Hang my head  
> Drown my fear  
> 'Til you all just disappear
> 
> Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden

 

The sound of screaming wakes her up. Beside her, Stiles is wrestling with the demons in his nightmares, the blankets tangled around his legs, eyes open but unseeing. Allison meets Jackson’s concerned gaze in the dark above Stiles’ writhing form. Of all of them, Stiles has the worst nightmares, the most sleepless nights, but they know what to do to help.

Together, they move around Stiles, holding him against them, murmuring nonsensical words that will eventually penetrate the bad dreams and bring him back to them. Eventually, he stiffens, waking up from the nightmare suddenly, eyes blinking in the darkness as he reaches for their hands. He doesn’t trust his own, but he trust theirs. Always trusts them. His fingers fumble as he moves them over each finger on first her hand then Jackson’s, counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

There’s an exhalation of breath, and then he’s pressing his face against Allison’s neck, warm tears dripping down her throat, salty against her skin as she soothes him. Jackson is petting Stiles’ hair, rubbing comforting circles against his scalp, bare body pressing close, providing a warmth that Stiles needs after these dreams. Tears dry up, and then there’s lips on hers, teeth dragging against soft curves, just enough pressure to make her whine low in her throat. Stiles is rough like this, wild, beautiful, and she gives while he takes, watches Jackson’s face over his shoulder, the eyes rolling back and the soft noises made as they begin to move together.

Another night. Another scream.

This one is shrill and high. Claws scratching at air as Jackson fights off his own demons. Sweat drips from his back, dampening the sheets beneath him, and he’s crying now, making mournful howls that are barely above a whisper, still caught in the nightmare of what once was his reality. Allison watches Stiles wake up, reaches for the bottle of water on the bedside table, twisting the top off and spilling a few drops down the front of her nightshirt.

Stiles takes the bottle from her, his fingers brushing against the back of her hand as he gives her a comforting smile, then he’s tilting the water against Jackson’s mouth, whispering words of encouragement as Jackson begins to wake from his daze, gulping down water to ease the rawness that always happens to his throat during these times. Allison starts kissing Jackson’s shoulders, hugging him behind, her hand above his heart as she feels it beating too fast, gradually slowing down. She kisses the tears off his face as Stiles bites on his neck, making him know that he’s theirs, that he belongs, that they do not judge nor do they blame.

She moves her hand lower, stroking him lazily, listening to his noises, murmuring praise that he needs to hear as she twists her wrist. Stiles hand joins hers, their fingers entwined around Jackson, moving together as one unit, giving him what he needs from them in moments like this. When he shudders, she rubs her face against his neck, counting each pulse in her grasp.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Jackson collapses between them, letting them hold him tight, giving himself to them so freely that it never fails to make her heart beat a little faster to be trusted so much by someone who guards his feelings so closely. She and Stiles share a smile above Jackson’s head when he falls asleep between them, and she feels sleep overtake her soon after.

Another night. Another scream.

Her grandfather is torturing Stiles. There’s sparks of electricity in the air, the scent of blood making her nose wrinkle, and she can’t move. She can’t do anything but watch. Stiles is talking back, mouthing off with blood dripping on his teeth, and it makes her grandfather so angry. Allison is terrified but still she does nothing. Then she’s turning and it’s her aunt. Aunt Kate is there, smirking at her, leading her through the woods and telling her stories about good versus evil and monsters who must be put down.

There’s a knife in her hand, and Jackson’s on the floor. He’s got wolfsbane infused ropes cutting into his skin, blood dripping down his skin, and she’s watching him, like a predator watches prey. She feels something inside of her moving forward, raising the knife, her aunt’s whispers egging her on, and she stares into Jackson’s eyes as she brings the knife down and screams.

Screams so loud that it hurts her ears and makes her throat sore.

There are hands in her hair, brushing the locks away from her face, stroking her skin as she starts blinking and sees Stiles in front of her, not Jackson. She looks at her hands, not seeing the blood, not seeing the knife, and then she’s reaching for Stiles’ face, checking his teeth, touching him everywhere, needing to know that her grandfather hasn’t tortured him. Not again. He pulls his ratty old Batman t-shirt off so she can see that scars covering his torso, all old, none fresh and new.

Then Jackson’s in front of her, body nude and clean of blood. No cracked bones, no raw wrists, and she’s sobbing as she touches his face, touches his wrists, whispering apologies for hurting him over and over until his lips are pressed against hers. She hears the whispers, the comforting words that tell her it’s just a bad dream, that she’s okay, that they’ve got her, that she didn’t do anything wrong. She tries to breathe, calming herself down, sucking in air and letting it out in gasps and puffs.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

And then she’s fully awake, no longer in the place of living nightmare where she’s not sure what’s real and what isn’t. Stiles rolls her towards him, kissing her gently, his hands beneath her nightshirt, sliding into her panties. Stroking her softly, his caress tender and careful as Jackson scents her neck, kissing and licking until saliva is drying on her skin instead of sweat. She feels dampness on her face, knows her eyes are red from tears, and she closes her eyes as she lets them take her away from this, lets them replace the bad memories of her dreams with pleasant memories of being loved, pleasure and want replacing the terror and panic.

They end up in a pile of limbs, holding each other, comfort in the storm of past mistakes and blood on their hands. Love growing from the ruins of broken pieces that they’d become at one point or another, stronger than ever because they’re together. They fall asleep pressed against each other, three becomes one, calmness settling over them as they breathe in sync, hearts beating together.

Another night.

No screams interrupt their sleep during this night.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


End file.
